


Blood Of My Blood

by inawasteland



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:11:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2241885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inawasteland/pseuds/inawasteland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where vampires are roaming the earth and trying to literally raise Hell, Wash is a part of Carolina’s rag tag band of Hunters.  When Carolina comes across someone who happens to know Wash, she rescues him even though he has been bitten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Of My Blood

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of a few prompts that I am fulfilling on my tumblr. The prompt (from anonymous) was: "im thinkiiiiin vampire and/or other supernatural beings (ghosts? werewolves? sentient zombies? u decide) au! an yorkalina or tuckington would be hella cool."
> 
> I was going to originally add more supernatural creatures to this, but I didn’t want it to be too chaotic. I also left room to expand in case I wanted to turn this into a more full-fleshed AU (which is a definite possibility because I love a good vampire AU)
> 
> If you would like to submit a prompt, you may do so [here](http://cheekylittleblog.tumblr.com/ask) and if you want to look at the post where I asked for prompts, that is located [here](http://cheekylittleblog.tumblr.com/post/95959508004/so-i-busted-my-knee-running-which-means-no-running). I am intending on getting back to Ouroboros, but these little prompts are exercises to get me back into the writing mode. Thanks for sticking by even though I haven't updated it in a while! I'll get back to that shortly, I promise.

“Everyone clear the fucking area, we’ve got wounded!” a voice grimly yells out, and in no time the table in the middle of the stronghold is cleared to make room for the man the redhead was carrying. A gasp can clearly be heard amongst the silence, but everyone’s attention is on Carolina, whose hand is pressed up against the man’s neck, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.  


 “Was he bitten?” one of the others asks. To which Carolina simply turns and glares at the one who spoke. “I’ll go get the med kit,” he mumbles under his breath and retreats into the other room.

Carolina waits until the med kit is at her fingertips before directing one of the others to apply pressure and try to stop the bleeding while she readies the syringe.

“Why do you have to try and save everyone?” When York doesn’t get an answer, he places a hand on her wrist and pulls it up to his mouth to press a small kiss on her pulse. “You can’t save everyone.”

“This one can be saved,” Carolina insists, the corner of her lips flickering just the slightest at the feel of York’s lips against her skin. It’s been a while since she stopped to appreciate those little things in life that used to keep her going. “He’s immune.”

Carolina does not need to turn around to sense the shock that is filling the room. She knows full well that those immune to the transformation have, for the most part, all been eradicated, neither side of this war trusting them. But Carolina is too sentimental to let this one die that same tragic death she had witnessed many times before.

“Just because he’s immune...” South trails off.

“Try and tell that to Wash. Where is he by the way?” The man laying on the table, previously having passed out from the shock of blood loss, is beginning to stir now that Carolina has injected the serum (as more of a prophylactic measure than anything else) into his system. “He may be needed in case our patient need a transfusion.”

“Did I hear my name?” Washington pokes his head into the front room of the stronghold, still wearing the clothes he had gone to bed with as he had just woken up from his assigned sleeping time. Everyone took shifts so that a team of hunters would be ready to patrol at a moment’s notice. Washington would normally have been out patrolling with Carolina, had he not been injured on a previous patrol, although by the looks of the bags under Wash’s eyes, it didn’t look like he got any sleep.

“There you are. Picked this guy up, said your name before he passed out. He look familiar?” Carolina asks just as the stranger’s eyes open and widen as soon as he sees Wash. The stranger tries to speak, but because of the wound on his neck it hurts too much, and he just gurgles up fluids instead. “Don’t try to speak, I’m working on that.” She fumbles through the med kit until she finds what she’s looking for: a needle and thread.

“Holy shit, Tucker? I don’t believe it, where did you find him?” The speed with which Wash crosses the threshold and is by Tucker’s side is impressive. He hesitates to touch Tucker though, when he notices the shape of the wound at Tucker’s neck. The group of them had seen enough of those wounds to know what follows.

“It’s okay, he’s immune,” Carolina insists as she stitches the bite marks up. “He’ll be okay, but you may want to stay with him while I sleep.” The yawn that follows is York’s cue to usher her out of the room. As he is practically dragging her away, Carolina manages to shout over her shoulder more instructions. “Wake me if his status changes, and for the love of god, don’t let Wyoming kill him!”

That last comment doesn’t exactly instill Wash with the utmost confidence, but now that Tucker is stitched up, and looking sleepily up at Wash, he at least feels a little less hesitation towards touching him.

“She didn’t say where she found you,” Wash mumbles, mostly to himself as he takes hold of Tucker’s hand. “Or how she knows you’re immune when you look like you were recently bitten. In fact, I don’t think she knows at all, she just...” He trails off as the last thought he has is too painful to even think of. Carolina knows that not many people know who Washington is, or was before all this crazy shit went down, before the Undead began to bring Hell to this world. She knows that anyone who happens to know who Wash was would be too valuable to him to kill. But if that’s the case, and Tucker isn’t immune...

“Wash, if I become one of them, you have to kill me,” Tucker’s voice struggles to say. “You can’t let me kill anyone. You can’t let me become one of those fucking monsters.”

The grip with which Wash is holding onto Tucker’s hand tightens as he realizes that may yet be a possibility. They won’t know right away if he will transform. The transformation isn’t instantaneous, after all, and Wash has no idea if Tucker’s heart had stopped before or after Carolina had picked him up.

Although Wash was supposed to have already slept during Carolina’s patrol, because of his injury, he falls asleep by Tucker’s side with his head resting gently on Tucker’s chest. It’s the first real sleep he has managed to get before he had joined forces with Carolina and with the rest of the hunters. When he wakes up, he realizes Tucker is watching him, and who knows how long he has been watched like that.

“Wyoming is going to try to kill me isn’t he,” Tucker speaks quietly as he begins to sit up, slowly. Having known Tucker for much longer than anyone else, Wash knows that the statement is much more loaded, that there is much more to it than that simple statement. It isn’t until Tucker follows up that statement that he realizes what it is he is getting at. “I’m not safe here. If you or if Carolina try to defend me...”

“No, you are not going on your own, end of story. I just got you back here, I’m not letting you go to get yourself killed by _them_ as soon as night falls.” Wash glances down at his attire, for the first time realizing that he hasn’t exactly had time to change into his clothes usually reserved for patrolling. “I made a promise to you, a promise I intend to keep.”

“Do you really think they had this kind of thing in mind when they went with those vows?” And even though the face Tucker is making shows that he is clearly poking fun, Wash has to admit he does have a point. _‘Till death do us part_ probably wasn’t meant for the apocalypse, but that didn’t meant that Wash was going to just abandon Tucker.

“Probably not, but you’re stuck with me. Now either come with me so I can get changed or stay here and holler if you get in any trouble.” Washington’s body language, coupled with the tone of his voice is enough to convince Tucker to be obedient instead of his usual stubbornly self-sacrificing ass, and he makes the split second decision to follow Wash as he gathers enough clothes and supplies to make what is sure to be a hazardous journey.

“So where exactly are we going to go?” Tucker asks as they manage to make it out the door of Carolina’s stronghold. Daybreak has just passed, giving the pair enough time to cut across terrain and reach a safe haven by nightfall. “I mean, this place is a fucking wasteland, and not for nothing but that kind of a place that your friend has back there is like one in a fucking million.”

Strangely enough, hearing Tucker curse up a storm is strangely a relief. Of course the fact that Tucker isn’t complaining of pain is somewhat worrisome, but Wash also expects Tucker would want to hide any pain that he might be feeling as a result of the bite.

“I’ve got a friend in the next town over. He’ll help us, he owes me a favor.” What Wash doesn’t say is that he isn’t sure if Tucker will make it to the next town over. But this is something that Tucker definitely does not need to know right now.

“You don’t have friends,” Tucker reminds him. His pace is somewhat sluggish, and he looks a little paler than usual, which considering his usually dark skin tone might not be obvious to a random bystander, but to Wash who knows every inch of Tucker from head to toe, it is not a symptom to take lightly.

“Yeah, I know, most of my friends are yours. But this guy, he’ll help us, just. Trust me. Please?” And that shuts Tucker up, because he knows he has to trust Wash by now. No matter how much he wants to argue, Wash has not let Tucker down yet and has no reason to start now.

The rest of the way is spent in relative silence, mainly to save their energy in order to make it to their destination before nightfall, and also because Tucker knows he shouldn’t speak, not with how much he is already starting to hold them back.

Wash considers it a miracle that they make it to the town before sunset. Tucker definitely has seen better days, and he is clearly dragging, but when Wash knocks on the door in what Tucker can only consider the equivalent of a secret handshake, he thinks maybe they are actually safe.

The big burly guy that answers looks like he’s seen better days and...the fuck does he have _fangs?_ , which causes Tucker to jump back in surprise, but Wash grabs a hold of his collar to keep him from running away.

“I told you he’s a friend. He will help you because he has been there,” Wash is talking to Tucker and with his other hand he gestures to Maine to back off, to let Tucker relax a little before interrupting what clearly is a very personal conversation for the moment.

“But how is he going to help when he is _one of them?_ ” Tucker’s voice is hissing and he is not doing a very good job at avoiding being overhead by the guy in the doorway.

“Maine is not one of them, because notice how he has not attacked us? He’s learned how to control it. He’s not quite immune, but not quite Undead either. If you do transform, he can help you overcome the urge to kill everyone. He’s a good guy, he’s one of us.”

Tucker looks like he is having quite the conflict, but the intensity with which Wash speaks, along with the way he clearly believes what he is saying (and again, Tucker can’t _not_ trust the man he dedicated his life to) is what convinces him to relax. He isn’t sure that he can trust Maine, but if Wash trusts Maine, then Tucker will just have to trust him, for now.

“Okay, fine,” Tucker relents, although he clearly is struggling against his predisposition for stubbornness. “We’ll stay.”

But when Wash is out of earshot, and Maine happens to still be nearby, Tucker turns to him and grabs an arm to pull him closer.

“If I even so much as try to kill him and he hesitates, I need you to do it. I don’t fucking care if I can be saved. He lives. I don’t. Got it?”

All Tucker gets in return is a grunt, but he figures that’s about as good as he’s going to get.


End file.
